Page 87 of Pickled
Could I still consider it my lucky bra? The rain beat the top of his SUV like a ball bearing had been dropped from the sky. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” I extracted myself from his lap and flopped into the passenger seat, struggling to get my feet back beneath me.
Gideon had an amused look on his face. And a massive fucking hard-on.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Pipes.” His voice sounded strained.
I got out of the SUV and was immediately soaked, squealing a rushed “Bye” before sprinting for the stairs. He didn’t drive away until I was inside.
Inside, I stripped out of my soaking wet clothes and grabbed a terry cloth robe from the bathroom. My hair was completelysaturated, and I pulled the hair tie, releasing my ponytail. I had an hour before I had to be at work, and then it was Olive’s tryouts. I knew I had made the right decision getting out of that car, but why didn’t it feel like it?
After combing out my hair, I turned on the shower and waited for the water to heat up. Someone banged on the door. I turned off the shower and wondered if I was hearing things. Maybe the storm had knocked some of the patio furniture against the glass?
Bang, bang, bang.
Nope, it was someone knocking on my door. I peeked around the corner, hoping that it would be Gideon.
It was.
I yanked open the door. Gideon was completely and utterly soaked. Rivulets of rain ran down his face, his hair plastered to his head. He held up my gym bag. “Olive needs her racket for tonight,” he panted.
I looked past him. “Where is your car?”
He shrugged. “When I saw the bag, I grabbed it and ran. I didn’t think.”
“Come inside,” I managed to rasp at the same time I kissed him.
He answered by crushing his mouth to mine. This kiss was different from the ones in the car. It was hungrier, more desperate, more…him. His hands roamed over my robe and quickly found the tie. When the terry cloth fell open, his hands skimmed my waist, then squeezed my ass. My legs quivered. “Gideon,” I moaned and arched into his touch.
“You’re so beautiful.” His mouth was on my neck, kissing a path to my collarbone.
I gasped and threaded my fingers through his hair, holding him to me.
“Your turn.” I tugged at his soaking wet shirt.
He helped me pull it off, and then it was my turn to stare. He was even better than I remembered.
He kissed me again, deeper this time, and I lost myself in the feel of his skin against mine. His hands slid down my back, and when he lifted me up, I wrapped my legs around his waist, just like I wanted to do the first day we practiced together. He carried me toward the couch, never breaking the kiss, and set me down gently.
“Tell me what you want,” he whispered, his lips brushing the lobe of my ear. Every nerve in my body was on alert, writhing with every one of his touches.
“You. Just you.”
He kissed me again, slower this time but no less intense.
“Gideon,” I breathed.
His fingers splayed on my lower belly, and I ached to feel them between my legs. Then reality crashed back in. Tomorrow. The tournament. Everything we’d worked for.
“Wait,” I gasped.
He froze immediately. “What’s wrong?”
“I… We…” I couldn’t form a coherent sentence. I wanted it, I wanted him. Why was I going to stop something that felt so goddamn incredible?
“Do you want me to stop?”
“No. Yes. I don’t know.” I covered my face with my hands. “The tournament is tomorrow, and I need to be focused, and this is going to mess with my head, and—”
He gently pulled my hands away from my face. “Hey. Look at me.I’m going to stop us now.”
